Tuesday Poem

The Earth’s Wild Places

Your eyes, your mouth, your hands,
the public highways.
Hands, like truck stops,
semis rumbling in the corners,
Eyes like the bank clerk’s window
foreign exchange.
I love all the parts of your body
friends hug your suburbs
farmlands are given a nod
but I know the path
to your wilderness.
It’s not that I like it best,
but we’re almost always
alone there,
and it’s scary but also calm.

by Gary Snyder
This Present Moment
Counterpoint Press, Berkeley,2015